


Dean - 13

by phantisma



Series: Ages [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-15
Updated: 2006-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is 13, John appears after an absence of over a year.  An absence that has given Dean time to nurse a very deep anger with his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean - 13

He was thirteen when he saw him again, half way to fourteen. Dean waited outside the school for Sam and Jenny, determined to keep his little brother from getting beat up again this week. He leaned against the pillar at the base of the stairs, his eyes scanning the grounds, the road. He was cautious, despite more than a year in suburbia.

Janet was going to be late picking them up, and that was usually when the bullies hit. Sam was good in a fight, but against three or more the poor kid didn’t have a chance. His foster family didn’t approve of violence, but sometimes, he knew, violence was called for. So Dean waited, having skipped out on his last class to make it to the elementary school in time.

As his eyes swept the street, he spotted him. Rage pounded through him and his jaw tightened, his hands fisted at his sides. He was watching Dean. Just standing there, leaning against the building across the street, hands in his pockets, watching. Dean met his eyes and his father slowly nodded.

Pushing off the pillar, Dean stalked off the school grounds toward his father. He was shaking with fury as he reached the corner and waited for the light, his eyes never leaving his father who hadn’t moved. More than a year had passed, 15 months, 5 days in fact. Sam had been keeping track on a calendar he made in school. It hurt fresh every day when Sam would mark the day off and ask Dean where he thought Dad was.

Today he’d be able to answer that question for the first time in 15 months and 5 days.

Dean made it across the street, his heart pounding, his stomach twisting, his fists working. He wanted to hit him, beat him with all the fury and betrayal and the damn 15 months and 5 days of suburbia. His eyes flicked around them to make sure no one was watching as he approached.

He stopped in front of him, and some of the fury drained when Dean really saw him. John Winchester didn’t move, just looked down at his son and waited. Dean returned the appraising look, his face paling. His father was thinner than he remembered, paler, with deep shadows under his eyes and at least a week’s growth of beard on his face. A scar that hadn’t been there before ran from his left eye into the beard and it shook Dean a little to see his father like that.

After a small eternity, Dean finally nodded. “Dad.” It was careful, measured, and he couldn’t keep the tinge of anger out of it.

John nodded just as carefully. “Dean.” His eyes swept over Dean once more. “You look good.”

Dean snorted. “You don’t.”

One of John’s hands came out of his pocket to rub over his face. “No, I suppose I don’t. You…you and Sam…are you okay?”

Dean nodded again, crossing his arms. “We’re all right. Sam asks about you every night, and every night I tell him you’ll come…and every morning you aren’t there.”

John dropped his gaze, his mouth working like he’s chewing on something. “Dean-“

“No, Dad. I was scared. Sam was sick, he could have died. Where the hell were you?”

“The hunt went bad. I was…It took me a few days to get it, and get back. By then, you were in that state home.”

“So you decided to just leave us?”

John shook his head. “No, I tried to get you out Dean. Then I got a lead on the thing that killed your mother.”

Dean stilled even more. It was more important, it always had been. “Is that where you’ve been?”

John nodded. “Nearly got it too.” He pointed to the scar. “But it nearly got me.”

Dean wanted to hate him, wanted to scream and yell and hit him, but he looked nearly broken already. “So, these people you’re with…they good to you?”

Dean quirked a small smile. “Yeah, Dad. They’re good people. They love Sammy. We’ve got a good roof over our heads, and Janet makes us eat healthy food, and it’s boring as hell, and we miss you, but they’re good to us.”

John nodded, his gaze flicking back to the school. “How long till Sammy comes out?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder. “Shit. Soon.”

John looked at him funny and Dean shook his head. “Jenny. She’ll be with Sam, if she sees you…She’ll tell Janet, and then…”

John nodded. “Yeah, they’ll call the cops.” He took a deep breath. “What are the chances of ditching her?”

Dean rolled his eyes. Truth was, he’d probably tell Janet himself. He’d promised them honesty. “She’s 9, Dad. I’m not ditching her. Besides, Sam’s been having some trouble with these bullies. I need to be there.”

Dean watched as emotions he wasn’t clear on chased over his father’s face. There was silence between them for a long time.

“Are you here to take us with you?” Dean finally asked.

It looked almost like he’d punched his father in the gut. John shook his head. “I can’t Dean, not right now.”

Dean nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show on his face. “How long are you in town?”

“A few days, I’ve got a job to get to down south.”

Dean looked over his shoulder again as the bell rang. “There’s a diner on Maxin street. I’ll bring Sam there tomorrow. It’s kind of our Saturday thing. Gets us out of the house.”

John stood as kids started pouring out of the doors across the street. “What time?”

“Around two. Depends on chores.” Dean wanted to hug him, let him know…but his father still had his hand in his pocket and Dean sighed instead. “You’ll be there, right?”

“Yes, Dean. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” Dean walked away, not surprised when a glance over his shoulder showed that John Winchester was already gone. He reached the school just as Jenny and Sam emerged, her red-gold hair tickling Sam’s face as he whispered something in her ear and she laughed. Dean loved to hear her laugh, it was such a contagious thing, and it never failed to bring out that smile on his brother’s face.

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Sam asked as he joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

“What? I can’t hang out with you two lovebirds?” Sam slapped at him and Dean ruffled his hair. “Janet said she’d be a little late, so I figured I’d come keep an eye on you two trouble makers.”

Sam’s eyes met his and Dean knew Sam understood his real purpose. “Yeah, whatever.” As they wandered out toward the pick up spot, Dean spotted the ruffians, hanging in a group of four, just off school property. They started milling around when they saw Dean and he had to smile.

They broke up before Janet and the minivan made their appearance, and Dean was almost disappointed. He could use a good fight. Instead, he cracked jokes with Sam and Jenny and got into the van with them. Janet thanked him with her eyes, knowing he’d been there to protect the younger two. Dean only nodded and went back to ribbing his brother about his recent growth spurt, and his ridiculously long legs that made nearly every pair of pants he owned high waters.

Dean was quiet as they worked on homework and chores. He wanted to tell Sam he’d seen their father, but he didn’t want him to be disappointed if their father didn’t show the next day. He wanted to hold the surprise, and yet he was dying to tell someone. In the kitchen with Janet, helping prepare dinner, she sighed and turned to him. “Is everything okay, Dean? You seem more quiet than usual.”

“Do I?” Dean shrugged and reached for another potato to peel. “I’m good.”

“You know you can tell me, right?”

Dean grinned and looked at her. “Yeah, you keep telling me that.” Truth was, he usually did. Somehow he trusted her. She seemed to understand him.

She smiled and turned back to the meat she was seasoning. “Okay. I just…I worry when you don’t talk. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Dean’s chest constricted. So far he’d mostly managed to keep his promises. He hadn’t told any straight out lies, and he let Janet mother him and Sam from time to time…enough to keep her happy. It was a good arrangement. In return, they let Dean take Sam out after chores on Saturday and never asked where they went or what they did…let Sam sleep in the same room, though they had replaced the double bed with two twins.

Dean sighed. “If I tell you something really important to me, will you promise not to get mad, not to freak out and call Ms. Waters?”

She turned and looked at him. “I can’t promise that Dean, but I will promise I won’t react in anger and I’ll hear you out.”

“Okay.” He sighed again, his hands working the potato peeler harder. “I saw my father today.” He said it softly, afraid to look up.

She was quiet for a minute. “Is he okay?”

Dean hadn’t expected that question. “Sort of, I guess.” He put the potato in his hand on the counter and reached for another. “He…looked…older, tired.”

“What did he want?” Her voice was carefully neutral, even toned.

“To see us. He’s in town for a few days.” He bit his lip, waiting for her freak out. When it stayed quiet he looked up. He was surprised that what he saw in her face was fear, not anger. “Janet?”

“I’m not angry, Dean. I’m…worried.” She turned to face him. “You’ve never said much about him, or about what life was like before you came here, but I see how much you’ve changed, how much Sam has changed, and I know things are better for you…and I know you love him and you would leave with him in a second if he asked you to…and I worry.” She took a deep breath. “Whatever he does…whatever he is…that’s no life for kids.”

“He’s our father.” Dean answered, though it was no real answer at all, really. “He loves us and wants what’s best for us.”

Janet nodded. “I’m sure he does. I just—“

“He doesn’t want us, Janet. He’s not here to take us with him.”

Janet reached out for him and for a change he didn’t pull away, just let her wrap him up in her arms. “’Why?” Dean’s voice was just a squeak and he hated himself for it, for the tears that came up out of nowhere. “How can he just let us go?”

“I don’t know Dean. I really don’t.” She held him for a while, then, as he seemed to pull himself together, slowly let him go.

“I—I’m taking Sam to see him tomorrow. I figure you should know. I don’t know…if he’ll even show up…and I’m sure he’ll fill Sam’s head with stories…and…” Dean took a shuddering breath. “I figure you should know…”

Janet nodded. “Okay, thank you for the honesty Dean. I think you should know that I have to tell Ms. Waters.” His eyes shot up to meet hers, betrayal coloring their deep green. “But, I’ll wait until you tell me he’s left town. You boys deserve to hear from him…hear what his reasons are.”

Dean nodded slowly. “I understand. Really. I do. Thank you.”

 

It was almost 2:30 before Dean and Sam managed to make it to the diner and Dean was nearly surprised to find their father sitting in a booth waiting for them. Sam’s face broke into a wide grin and he pulled free of Dean’s hand to race across the diner, yelling. John’s face brightened as a blur of 9 year old Sam launched himself into John Winchester’s arms, crying and laughing and speaking a blur of unintelligible words all at once.

Dean hung back a while, giving Dad and Sam the time to reconnect, since he’d had his time the day before. Besides, he’s got more to think about than Sam does. He knew that there was a gun under the floorboard in their closet, that he’s got salt and lighter fluid hidden under the dresser, and consecrated rounds hidden under the box spring of his bed. He knew that John Winchester was only there to ease his conscience and that at the end of the day they’ll retreat to their suburban prison to go on pretending they’re two normal kids who like baseball and soccer and have never hunted the things that go bump in the night. Even if Sam hadn’t figured it out just yet.

After a while, John called him over and he went…just like that…because it is what he does…the good soldier, obeying orders. He smiled for Sam, but whenever his eyes met his father’s the smile faded just a little.

The waitress smiled at them, and took their order, calling Dean sweetheart the way she did every week. John told them about the demon, about the fight that nearly killed him. He talked about a shapeshifter in Dallas and a possessed monkey in Cleveland.

His eyes sparkled when Sam laughed and held on to him. He brought presents, nothing spectacular, but Sam’s face looked like it might crack in half if he smiled any bigger when he opened his bag and found a stack of books

Dean couldn’t help but smile himself as Sam pulled each one out of the bag and touched its cover, read its title and set it reverently on the table. All in all there were 7 books, some that Dean thought were a little over Sammy’s head, but books had always made the squirt happy.

Their food came and forced Sam to clear the books away from the table to make room for his corn dog and fries.

“Aren’t you going to open yours?” Sam asked, poking him.

“Can we eat first?” Dean asked, wanting to prolong the moment, and starving since he’d skipped breakfast to finish his chores faster.

Sam pouted, but dug into his fries while Dean wrapped his hands around his burger. They ate in near silence, not unlike when they’d all been together and John was eager to get out to a hunt, or all tired and broken after one.

Sam finished first and regaled John with tales of Jenny and the class field trip to the science museum while Dean ate. When the bus boy had cleared their plates, Sam was nearly bouncing with excitement.

“Yeah, Sammy, yeah.” Dean reached into the shopping bag his father had given him and pulled out a book of his own. It was leather bound, black supple leather that felt good on his hands as he lifted it. He opened it, one hand sliding over the blank pages before he looked up at his father. “A journal?”

John smiled. “I figured it was time you started one.” He reached across the table and flipped it to the back. “I put in some phone numbers, Caleb, Pastor Jim. And some basics.” He flipped the pages again, opening to his hand writing on a page somewhere near the middle with notes on the differences between a poltergeist and a ghost, how to track werewolves and common cures for basic hexes.

Den didn’t even know how to respond. He smiled, and went back to exploring the journal, with its pockets and pages and pages to write on. His father’s journal was his most prized possession. It was a hunter’s source of information, as well as a sort of record of the things he’s done. “Thank you.” Dean said after a while, looking up at his father with tears in his eyes.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked suddenly, looking up from a book on child ghost stories.

John looked stricken and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sammy…You…you and Dean, you’re staying here. I can’t take you with me right now.”

“But—“ Sam’s pout was mostly an attempt to keep from crying and Dean touched his arm.

“Sammy, Dad’s chasing the demon. We’ll just get in the way.”

“I don’t like it here.” Sammy whispered. “I miss you.”

“I miss you two so much.” John said, tears spilling from his eyes. “But, Dean’s right. It’s dangerous right now. You two are safe here.”

Dean slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “The Caplins are good people. You like your school. It’s not so bad here, right?” Sam shrugged and leaned in to him.

“I guess so.”

“Sam’s getting good grades, and he has friends.”

“What’s with the bullies?” John asked and Dean shook his head lightly.

“No big thing, right Sam?”

“Right.” Sam looked up at Dean, the tears still hanging in his eyes. “I have to go.”

Dean nodded and let him go, watching as he went into the hall that led to the bathroom. “There are a few guys a couple years older. They give him a hard time. I’ve got it under control.”

“You found the bag I left you at the hotel, right?” John asked.

“Yeah, I found it.”

“You’re protecting yourselves, right?”

“From what, Dad?” Dean shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like this place is filled with supernatural activity.”

“You can’t be too careful Dean.”

“Dad…” Dean shook his head and looked around them. “I have the windows of our room salted. Nothing’s coming in them.”

John nodded. “Do you need anything?”

Dean sighed. “No.” He wanted to say yes, they needed him, but he didn’t. He just stared at the black leather of his journal and waited.

“Are you training?”

Dean looked up at him. “When I can. I’m doing the sports thing…soccer, baseball, track…weights. It’s not like I can just set up an obstacle course in the back yard.”

“Good. That’s real good. What about Sam?”

Dean snorted and looked back down the hallway. “He’s a geek boy. Studies hard. He’s not much for the physical stuff, but he can handle himself.”

“I’m counting on you Dean, to keep him safe…to teach him how to be safe.” John leaned back in the booth, his eyes skimming over the diner, marking faces. Dean had seen the look a hundred times.

“I have something for you too.” Dean said, trying to keep his voice casual. He fished in his back pocket for the notebook paper he’d carefully written the information on before they’d left the house. “It’s our address. Sam and Jenny and I generally get the mail, so you could send stuff and we’d get it. The first phone number is the number at the house. I wouldn’t use it unless it was really important. Janet’s pretty okay, but if you called she might freak out.”

John’s eyes skimmed over the rest of the page. Dean had listed out both of the schools, addresses, phone numbers, start and end times, and a basic schedule. “I can have us ready to go in 24 hours. All you have to do is give me the word.” Dean said, though he couldn’t look in his father’s eyes.

“Thank you Dean, this is good information.” Dean watched as his father folded the paper and tucked it into a pocket in his shirt. “I appreciate it.”

Dean buried his “Whatever” in his coke, finishing it off and looking up as Sam rejoined them. He seemed quieter and Dean had his suspicions that the bathroom trip had been more about working past the tears than it was about pee, but he let his brother have that and only sighed. “It’s getting late. If we’re gone too long, Janet might worry.”

John nodded and stood first. Dean saw the twitch of emotion in his father’s face, and a part of him enjoyed that he’d hurt him just a little. John threw money down on the table before Dean had fished his own out. Dean put his back and nodded. “Say goodbye Sammy.”

Sam managed not to cry as John hugged him and held him close, whispering to him things Dean couldn’t hear. When he finally put him down, Dean sent Sam to wait by the front door. “You should probably get out of town tonight.” Dean said softly. “Janet knows, and she’ll tell the social services lady. They might come looking for you.”

“How did she find out?”

Dean looked up at him. “I told her.”

“Jesus, Dean!”

“I made a promise to them Dad. And that promise lets me do my job. I’m not going to break it. Not even for you. You taught me…”

“It’s okay.” John drew him closer, hugging him tight. “You’re right. There are different rules where you are. You do what you have to. I’ll be gone within the hour.”

Dean nodded and turned to check on Sam. “Be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, you too.”

Dean threw himself into his father’s arms once more, then walked away stiffly, not looking back, even as he took Sam’s hand and headed out the door. They walked the long way home, stopping at the candy shop to stock up on M&Ms for Dean and an assortment of sour candies for Sam.

Dean even stopped at the park, watching from the bench as Sam ran around with some friends from school, until it started inching toward dark. He called Sam over, laughing at the sweaty, dirty face. “Come on, Janet’s going to kill me if you show up like that for dinner.”

Janet met Dean’s eyes as they walked in the door and he nodded to her before sending Sam upstairs to clean up, with their gifts from their father and the candy hidden in the bags. George emerged from the kitchen as Dean sighed and turned to Janet. “He’s gone. Do whatever you have to.”

Janet nodded and took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m more worried about Sam.”

“You always are.” George said as he sat beside Janet on the couch.

“Its my job.” Dean said reflexively.

“No, Dean, it really isn’t.” George countered. “You’re just 13. You aren’t Sam’s father.”

Dean deflated a little, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m his big brother.” He chewed on his lip for a minute, shuffling his feet. “I’m supposed to look after him.”

Janet smiled, but it was a little sad. “Dean, you know, we’re here to do that too.”

Dean didn’t really answer, though he sort of nodded. “I’ve looked after him his whole life, since the night my mother died.” He kicked himself. He didn’t know why he’d said it.

“When was that?” George asked gently

Dean shuffled a bit more and cocked his head to one side. “I was four. I heard screaming, and I came out of my bedroom to see. There was smoke and Mom was screaming, and the next thing I know Dad is shoving Sam into my arms and telling me to take him outside.” He closed his eyes. It had been 9 years and he could still taste the smoke, see the fear in his father’s eyes, feel the weight of his 6 month old baby brother in his arms as he ran through the house and out into the cold night air. “The nursery was burning. Sam didn’t cry though, he just looked at me with those big eyes. Then Dad was there, scooping us up…and then there were sirens and fire trucks and neighbors everywhere.” He swayed a little on his feet, lost in the moment.

The room was silent and slowly he opened his eyes. They were both watching him, holding hands and watching him. “I’ve kinda watched out for him ever since.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to tell them, especially now when they were looking at him with that sympathetic look that he found usually led to hugging and tears. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed his eyes. Right now he wanted nothing more than to get out of the living room without the hugging part.

Janet seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up. “Well, how did Sam take the visit?”

Dean shrugged. “He did his crying in the bathroom of the diner, so Dad wouldn’t see him. He—Dad didn’t really explain why he couldn’t take us with him, so Sam probably thinks…I don’t know. He didn’t talk about it on the way home.”

“Should I go talk to him?”

Dean shook his head. “No. He’ll talk when he’s ready.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m going to go start dinner. You want to help?”

Dean sighed and considered saying no, but she seemed to really like it when he helped in the kitchen so he nodded. Besides, she was teaching him how to cook actual food, so when they did get back on the road with their father, he could make sure they ate better than Spaghettios and tuna sandwiches...and truth be told, Dean liked knowing something so simple could make her smile. He really liked to see her smile.


End file.
